


Fictober 2019, Oct. 11th, “It’s Not Always Like This.”

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Yet another Fictober 2019 piece! Hopefully I can be so prolific with Fictober 2020 lol.I’ve always heard how frustrated Queen could get after a gig they felt went poorly (Big Artist Mood in general right there) and this came as a result of thinking about that!
Kudos: 14





	Fictober 2019, Oct. 11th, “It’s Not Always Like This.”

“It really isn’t,” Freddie said as they walked the backstage hall, himself and an American reporter that looked barely old enough to be alone at a concert, let alone working to report on one. “It’s not always like this, the damned issues with the sound, the lights, everything…” 

They entered the dressing room to find it in the process of being torn apart: cups of water, coffee, and beer smashed to the floor, a bouquet of flowers and their loose petals soaking up the mix of liquids. 

Roger was halfheartedly kicking at the edge of the coffee table, apparently out of steam to keep trying any harder to destroy it, while John seethed in a chair in the corner, and Brian stomped about the room, angrily packing up bits of make up and costumes. 

“I’m sure it isn’t,” the reporter replied, sounding like some plucky boy wonder out of a comic book from the fifties. “I tell you, the venue’ll be getting a poor review from me!” 

“That’s great,” he snapped, not bothering to try and be anything but short with the boy. Between the show going terribly and having to be followed by Boy Wonder, the most happy-go-lucky music reporter on Earth, he was getting fed up. 

He was already planning on having words with whoever had given the reporter the okay to follow them before and after the show. It was an unwelcome intrusion, made all the worse by the issues of the night. 

“Not you guys though! Only good things to write about you all; you were great!” 

If the kid noticed the four identical sour glares on him all at once, he didn’t let it show, still smiling away. 

“I mean, the venue sure should have double checked those lights, ya know? That was just dangerous for you all!” 

“Yeah,” John remarked, who’d nearly been hit by the trail of sparks that had randomly fallen from the light nearest him onstage. He’d stayed away from it and on the step of Roger’s drum riser the rest of the night, and had played perfectly well, but had been noticeably and understandably nervous to the rest of them. “Would have been great if they had.” 

“And your amp!” he turned to Brian now, who looked away and rolled his eyes so hard Freddie figured they just might roll right out of his skull.

“That was scary too! Sounded like it was about to light on fire a few times! It’s okay, isn’t it?” 

“It is, thanks,” Brian replied dryly. “Do all Americans in this area ask this many questions, because in my experience-” 

The reporter giggled, and they all stared. 

“No! I just like asking questions and finding things out! Hence the-” the kid, whose baby-face was all the more pronounced as he grinned, interrupted himself to show off the Press Pass on a lanyard around his neck. 

“How old are you?” Roger asked, moving to sit on a box full of outfits, staring the Boy Wonder Reporter down as if he was a particularly puzzling specimen. 

“Just turned 19! My uncle owns the local paper, and knows the venue owner, and talked to your manager and-” 

They interrupted him with an in unison frustrated groan. Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder the kid had gotten so much access, if there was family to answer to. 

The reporter’s smile fell just a bit at that. “Um. The mic issues all around sure were unfortunate. But what we could hear out in the crowd sounded perfect!” 

That was the last straw.

“Look. I understand what you’re trying to do, but right now…this isn’t the time for it, for endless positivity,” he sighed, trying to keep his voice even. The kid looked like he was about to cry. 

“What Freddie means is…okay, it sounded all good to you no matter what, right?” Roger asked.

The reporter nodded. 

“Well, to us, any and every little mistake or problem makes it a bad night. So for us, tonight was…” 

“Terrible, the worst,” John groused. 

“Absolutely shit,” Brian grumbled. 

There were definitely tears about to fall from the kid’s eyes. They’d taken the kid’s naivete and cheer and shattered it like one of the coffee mugs on the floor, albeit unintentionally. 

He sighed. “Look, I hate your kind-” 

“Teenagers?” The kid asked tearfully. 

“What? No, reporters,” Freddie replied. “But please don’t take this, us, right now, personally.” 

“Oh,” the reporter replied quietly. “Can’t blame you guys, I suppose. I mean, the venue owner was a fucking asshole to me, makes sense him and his staff would fuck up and make the show a total nightmare for you.” 

It was such an unexpected outburst of profanity that he couldn’t hold back his shocked laughter. “Look at you! Where has that been hiding all night? You sound like a proper human instead of a reporter now!” 

The kid blushed like he’d been given some sort of wildly explicit compliment, though for him perhaps this was essentially one. “Mother told me not to swear in front of the talent. Said it’d be rude.” 

Roger shrugged. “Might be considered a bit unprofessional by some. But fuck ‘professional’. This isn’t a formal interview right now anyway, is it? This is just talking. And Mum’s not here…” 

“No…she fucking isn’t,” the kid replied with a renewed smile. 

“Oh, look at you. You might even be fun…for a reporter,” Freddie said. Like this, relaxed, the kid was manageable, sweet even. Not too dissimilar from the excited fans in the crowd, about that age. 

“You’re in town for a bit tomorrow yet, right?” the kid asked. 

“We are,” Freddie replied.

“Maybe we could do one…a formal interview…only after you’ve had the rest of tonight to relax, of course!” 

Nods all around. Not something they’d do or allow all the time, but the Boy Wonder had won them over. 

“For now, and you can say no, of course, just tell me if you don’t wanna, but-” the kid held out his Press Pass, his program from the concert, and a T-shirt from their small merchandise booth out front. When he’d escaped to buy that, Freddie had no idea. 

“Autographs?” Brian asked.

The kid nodded sheepishly. 

“I think we can do that,” Brian continued, patting one of the empty and not ruined chairs near John. 

The dam broke then, adorably. 

“My sister and I-she’s fifteen-we both just love you guys so much, and all your records. Used to never get along with her, then I heard her singing along to some of your stuff, and now we share records and…” 

As he took his turn signing the kid’s things, there was a strange curiosity in his mind. Perhaps the music and music reporting industry wouldn’t completely destroy this one, the polite, blushing, well-meaning Boy Wonder. 

He certainly hoped it wouldn’t. If it didn’t, he just might be willing to grant him another full interview. 


End file.
